


Too Much, Too Soon, Too Little, Too Late

by give_me_novacaine



Category: American Idiot - Green Day/Armstrong
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Leaving Home, Light Angst, Strong Woman/Weak Man, Those last two just get implied, Weed, couch potato
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10596027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/give_me_novacaine/pseuds/give_me_novacaine
Summary: Heather couldn't take this anymore, all his beer and weed and lazing around waiting for them to return, for something to happen. Their son shouldn't have to deal with it either, which is probably why she was leaving.





	

A loud noise awoke the sleeping stoner, and Will almost jumped off the sofa in fright. It was the middle of the night, after all, and everyone should've been asleep. "Hea-Heather?"

The blonde haired girl said nothing and just picked her jumper off the back of the couch with a sigh, staring at him briefly with the coldest expression known to mankind, freezing over her normally light features. A dim light coming from the torch in her hand illuminated her tear stained face, and she seemed rushed, like she had to do something.

"Heather? Won't you talk to me?"

Caught off by his louder speech, she dropped the torch, and instead went to the wall to flick the light switch, causing him to squint at it's bright light. More tears appeared, and she groaned. "Will this is for our child's sake. My son's sake. He needs a father that doesn't sit around all the time wasting his life away,"

"So you're saying I can't change?" Will sat up, specifically to block another of her t-shirts, that's been left out. In something of a shock, he wasn't sure if he could hear this all tonight. "You're saying I can't handle it?"

"Yes I am," A cold sob escaped her lips as one violent arm action yanked her Oakland shirt from underneath where he was, and she stuffed it in her case. "All you've done since April is sit on your ass, how can you be a good father?"

"I'm trying, I'm really trying," Will said, trying not to show her his obvious years as he stood up, somewhat shakily. She couldn't leave him too, could she? She- she wouldn't. Desperate for forgiveness, he placed a hand on her shoulder, gentle in his very disposition, though clearly tired and hungover. "Look, I'm sorry I'm a fuckup, but you always, always told me that wasn't a problem, that you were too, that we could be fuckups together. Who am I meant to turn to?"

"You'll figure it out," Heather retorted, shaking him off so she could zip up the suitcase that'd carry her out of this place. She knew what she was doing and she knew how to do it. No matter how much she loved him, she wanted a good life for their child, and if she had to be cold, she would be.

Desperation took over his senses again and he grabbed her hand, still gently, almost lazily, to pull her back across the room into a hug, one that said so much on so little. He knew she wouldn't leave him in this way is she hated him, because she'd have packed less and wouldn't even be arguing, or she'd be shouting. He knew she meant it though, but he was determined to not be left behind, to not be left alone to the winds like the true outcast he was. Which might have been why, against all his own logic, he pulled her into one final kiss. And to his own surprise, she didn't react for a few seconds, even briefly kissed back, before her right hand hit his cheek.

"Fuck you,"

Still tearstrewn, in one moment, she picked hip her bags, smacked the door and took her sleeping infant son in one tender arm, sobbing more and more as she left, knowing perfectly well what it was she was doing to Will, but knowing what he was doing to her too, but she couldn't help him, and that was the saddest part. Despite her best intentions, he was just in too deep, and she couldn't get down and pull him up any further. It was an attempt as futile as his attempts to stop her had been.

Numb was all Will felt as he stared at the space that had, seconds ago, been occupied by the very beautiful young woman he'd been happy to say he'd lived alongside, the mother of his child, his lifeline. Sharp and cruel, the taunting sound of the slamming door echoed through his mind, mocking him as he gaped, unable to do anything about the situation. With a stumble, he fell back into his couch, tears already threatening to take over his senses as he managed to hopelessly mumble one word. "Heather…"

Devoid of all senses, he got through two cans of beer at a remarkable pace, causing a headache and more fucking tears. He didn't know what to do with himself, of course he didn't. He was just useless, everyone knew it. Seven cigerettes down, he'd burnt a hole into the couch and felt like this was all a surreal dizzying mess. What even was the point of soberity now? Everyone had left him, and he was all alone.


End file.
